


Opening Theme -- Looking for Cheryl

by autisticcloudstrife



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticcloudstrife/pseuds/autisticcloudstrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Mason was just taking his daughter on a roadtrip vacation to a resort town. Now she's gone, and there's nothing to be done but search and hope to find her. He could have sworn he saw her run down that alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opening Theme -- Looking for Cheryl

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this more than a year ago now. might as well put it up.
> 
> okay so i was listening to the opening theme to silent hill 1 again, and i decided to write out one of the scenes as i always believed it to have happened.
> 
> man, i haven’t written silent hill fanfiction in a very long time. i should get back into that.  
> i've been thinking of doing an entire series of drabbles like this to cover the game as i tend to play it, but we'll see where that goes.

“Cheryl?”

It was totally silent as he walked the streets, comforting weight of a borrowed pistol in his hand. His head was still swimming as he briskly walked the streets, shrouded and drowning in fog- he couldn’t see three damn feet in front of his face, let alone discern where any of these streets may have been taking him.

The fog around him swallowed his voice, weak and mild and strained as he walked steady on. There was no rhyme or reason to his steps beyond finding his daughter and getting the hell out of this town. His head was pounding with a dull pain throbbing right behind his eyes, his legs were stiff and his back was sore, but what else was he to do but keep moving forward?

Cheryl couldn’t be far away. She  _couldn’t_  have gotten far.

A lump formed in his throat as the thought entered his mind; his dear little girl,  _scared_  and  _lost_ and  _alone_  in this town, with godknows _what_  at her very heels. It made his blood run cold to even begin to imagine what could have sunk its claws into her by now- he tried to shake his head and be done with the thought, cast it from his mind and focus entirely on his search, but the thought continued to creep  _insistant and cruel_  from the dark corners of his mind.

The only noises to break the maddening silence were quiet snarls and breaths from no particular direction and the quiet, dreaded rustles of movement from deep, deep within the fog ahead. He had no torch to guide him and his supply of bullets was alarmingly limited; he hoped right from his very core he wouldn’t have to use them at all.

His derailed train of thought was shattered as he heard footsteps-  _clear, distinct footsteps_ up ahead- could that be Cheryl? He clenched his jaw and squinted his eyes and  _strained_  his sight to peer ahead into the dark as he began to quicken his steps, hoping for a glimpse of whoever it was ahead. If it wasn’t Cheryl, perhaps it was someone that could help him find her.

And yes-! Up ahead, in the distance through the mist, a figure began to take form. A tiny girl, no older than seven, in a cute little pink shirt and a denim coverall dress. It  _was_  Cheryl! He called out to her as such, even going so far as to cup a hand around his mouth. The dark-haired child seemed to pay him no mind, however, and continued on ahead.

Had she not heard him?

There was no time to lose- she ducked around a corner into what looked like a side alley. The author broke into a run, his jacket caught by the wind and beginning to skip off his shoulders as he thundered after her- he was  _not_  going to lose his little girl. Not again.

Skidding around the corner, Harry very nearly lost his balance as he sprinted into the alley. He caught another glimpse of the elusive little girl, turning another corner and letting herself in through a gate- a gate he vaguely recognised? But the thought was stopped sharp when he heard a threatening growl, and he almost tripped over himself coming to a halt.

There was a dog before the gate, eyeing him up with its hackles raised; teeth bare and eyes glimmering, it was a monstrous sight- for unlike the average guard dog, this beast was skinned bare to the muscle, twitching and quivering with every ragged breath. A nauseating sight at the best of times. And it barked, lowering itself down- was it going to attack?

He wasn’t keen on using his gun- or, Cybil’s gun, really. The man hesitated as the dog continued to watch him closely, ears pinned back and body streaked with blood as it gave another warning growl. How had Cheryl gotten past this beast-? If he waited here, she could meet another down the track, and not be so lucky! Upon everything else his heart sank as he thought of just how very scared his little girl must be.

Everything happened in a flash- Harry Mason had never fired a gun at a living thing before. His shot missed terribly, hitting the nearby trash can instead of its intended mark on the horrifying mockery of a dog. But it was enough to set everything in motion; the dog lunged as the man surged forward, throwing himself through the still-open gate and slamming it shut before the dog could follow him.

His breath was coming fast and heavy, but there was no time to waste. His sprinting was cut down to a light jog as he began making his way down the long, narrow alley leading behind the houses. He recognised this alley. It was the one from his dream earlier on, when they’d first crashed.

_The siren, the ash, the fog, and then darkness. He’d flicked on the lighter in his pocket for guidance through the darkness, but once he’d reached the end of the alley he’d been met with barbed wire fences and what looked like may have once been **human**  figures strung up upon then._

_And then the children._

_They’d swarmed out of the darkness, grey children with missing faces and terrible cries, gathering around him and **ripping him to shreds in the darkness**._

But no, that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was little Cheryl. Despite the sharp pain in his chest he quickened his pace again with a deep breath, beginning his trek down the alley again. To his vague relief the light did not dim this time, and no siren sounded as he followed the twists and turns further and further.

His search came to a stop halfway to what he believed his destination to be, however. The walls of the alley had collapsed, leaving nothing but rubble and piping. Harry stopped then, doubling over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. It was standing like this, head down and throat burning, that brought him to notice the pad on the ground.

It was a jumbo sketch pad, with a yellow cover and brown paper. And on the front there was an odd fellow scribbled, with large eyes and a larger smile.

_Cheryl’s sketchpad._

He dropped to his knees and gathered it up, looking around wildly for a good few moments. But there was no sign of his daughter, and if she’d left the way she’d came, surely he’d have seen her pass? He bit his lip as he looked it over; that was definitely his little girl’s drawing pad, with the artistic rendition of him on the front cover.

Opening the pad caused two ripped-out pages to fall to the ground; nothing else seemed to be in the book except empty pages. The two pages that fell out, however… One showcased a surprisingly tidy _Levin St._  in large, green crayon letters, whilst the other has a much messier  _Go to School_  scribbled on in red. He blinked.

Was she… trying to lead him somewhere?

It was definitely Cheryl’s handwriting. He knelt there on the damp concrete for a while, staring at the pages and just… thinking. But he didn’t have  _time_  to think! His little girl was out there, lost, and god knows what could have happened to her by now! So he made up his mind.

He got to his feet quickly, gentle hand grasping not the fallen pages of the sketch book, but a loose piece of steel piping that had fallen from the debris. He had a dark, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d be needing to protect himself- and a gun with very limited ammo and his poor aiming skills just wouldn’t do the job. He wouldn’t get into any sort of fighting if he could help it, though.

He just wanted his little girl back.

So Harry Mason set off once again, retreating from the alley; he knew where Midwich Elementary School was, on the other side of town. That’s where he was headed. And if memory served correctly, Levin Street was on the way there. He might as well check that out first.

_Don’t worry, Cheryl.  
Daddy’s on his way._


End file.
